Crazy Mother Nester (TTC)

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

If you're watching Parenthood on TV (or like me and devouring it on Netflix) you should stop here if you're still in Season 1, or early in Season 2. Actually, stop here unless you're finished because we're going into Season 3.

Okay, this is your last warning, there are spoilers afoot.

So the other night, the DH and I were watching Parenthood on Netflix. Actually, let me get you up to speed, Julia already has a kid, wants another one, whines at some point that life is hard because they've been trying for four months, funny scene about her husband beating off in a Dr. office, then the next thing you know she gets a call from her Dr. saying that she has scarring and can pretty much never ever ever ever have a baby. Okay, so there, she is infertile. Adoption plotline, they want to adopt all of a sudden it has been six months, Julia finds out the latte girl is pregnant, latte girl doesn't want baby, Julia helps her with ulterior motives, asks "Hey, what about me taking your baby?", definite no for sad personal reasons.
Now you're where we are, sort of. The girl has some falso contractions, Julia to the rescue blah blah blah blah. So one night the girl shows up in the night and says basically, "You can have my baby," and runs away into the dark. I felt my husband watching me, so I looked at him and informed him of how stupid this plot-line was. He said, "you're getting all watery eyed." He proceeded to hug me in a big way and say theatrically, "It's just Parenthood." To which I responded, "Infertility isn't parenthood, it's just slooowwww sufffeeerrriiinnnggggg," dramatically, I thought I was kidding, but then I started crying. This folks, is Infertility. It would make a shitty sitcom, most of the stuff I do makes little or no sense to even myself.

I occasionally wonder what type of wound infertility is akin to. I like comparisons, so say in bodily injuries people always say the death of someone close is like losing a part of themselves (some say a left hand, their heart, their eyes whatever.) I've had people close to me die so I understand that comparison.
I was thinking earlier maybe infertility is like a bruise. I've found myself semi-cripplingly depressed lately. Crippling enough that I absolutely resent having to do anything that doesn't involve hiding in bed or on the couch all alone, but semi-crippling enough that peer pressure makes me do things, I just resent it.
For example, I tried to get out from under it yesterday and bought stuff to bake. Today, I still have a lot of stuff I planned to bake underway, and I said I'd bake the stupid Martha Stewart uber-pain-in-the-ass cupcakes. Today, I wish I could just throw those stupid gala apples away so I don't have to shred 5 of them and then do all the other unnecessary crap she included in the recipe. I don't even want a stupid cupcake now. I just want water and crackers.
I also got all "I should exercise!" because quite honestly cardio kickboxing sounds awesome. Last night they cancelled it and I found myself in a substitute class called BodyVive! yes, the exclamation mark is part of the name. It was a lot of senseless bouncing to horrible techno club remixes of songs I already don't like. I lasted like 30 minutes, because I didn't want to look like a loser when I scooted between bouncing middle-aged women on my way to get my water bottle. After thirty minutes of the perky lady up front asking if we're ready to set the world on fire while bouncing and giving me a nauseating camp counselor smile I mentally say, "F*ck this," and hit the road.
I'm depressed as shit lately, I just don't want to be, I don't want to do, I don't want to deal, and I sure as hell don't want to bounce around to techno remixes while my yoga pants get twisted and give me a front wedgie. No thank you.
I can't quite figure out which injury you would equate infertility to though. I have this bruise on my head from attacking an open cupboard door with my head, and it hurts. I keep pushing on it because it is a noticeable hurt. I know why it hurts, I know how it happens, and if I said, "My head hurts because I cracked my head on the cupboard door and for some reason I'm an asshole and keep pushing on it," then people would understand the kind of hurt it is. They would sympathize up until I say I keep pushing on it even. They could feel the big welt that is to the 4 o'clock of my messy bun.
So that being said it probably isn't a bruise, I thought maybe a bruise on your head if you have hair, because it hurts like hell, but other's can feel it. Even if they can't feel the pain they can feel your lumpy scalp. It isn't a knee bruise, because that leaves a visible mark.
I thought for a minute maybe it was like those phantom pains people with an amputated limb have where their non existant hand hurts and cramps. It isn't that though either, because everyone can see where the limb was and everyone is sad the limb isn't there and they sort of look at you and wonder if you are a veteran or if maybe you got in some gnarly accident that you have a traumatic and crazy story about.
I really can't find the parallel to infertility. There is nothing like it that I've experienced up to this point. I had a crap childhood, I've buried friends, I've had my dog die, my cat die, I've dislocated and broken things, I've been homesick, and had my husband overseas for a year but this is a new hurt.
I don't like new things, really, I really really don't like change or new things. That is probably why this will continue to be a sad blog for a while, not because I think making other people sad is fun, but since this is a new thing I don't know how to verbally explain it to other people. The best I can do is be semi-raw here (like when you defrost a roast but the middle is still frozen, heyyyyy-oooo told you I like comparisons) because if I don't have the words or the comfort level, and I really don't feel like I have the right either, to explain how crappy I feel to my friends and family when they ask.
A lot of my friends are eating a shit sandwich in life right now, one just broke off her engagement, another has a crazy mother that makes her life hell, and I try my hardest to listen and be nice and be there. I just wish I had the ability to explain that I'm really really really sad and torn up too and spend a while talking about why this sucks and actually get them to understand. Of course I have people (actually person) in my life who are going through infertility too, and she's a fucking god-send. It just sucks to have to see all these people you're super close to day in and day out and not be able to yell for a life-saver.
So that being said, I will survive. I'm going to go bake the stupid whole-wheat bread bowls I said I'd make yesterday. They'll be stupid and I'll resent them but I'll make the stupid bread bowls.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

I haven't really updated this thing quite like I wanted, mostly because I've been feeling extra whiny. Lately I've gone from whiny to terrified about the idea of my mortality, so we'll just talk about that instead of my insane, seething jealously of all the pregnancy ladies. I should probably also note we've passed the 12 month mark, now it is just a problem of settling on a doctor and accepting the fact the one that I want (that everyone here wants) does not take my insurance.
Back to mortality. I know it may befuddle some but I am a mere mortal. A little back story, I've always been mortal. It's the shits right? What I mean by that is, I've always been intensely aware that myself and everyone/everything around me is going to die.
I remember being very small, maybe three years old, and my mother would put me to sleep and I would find myself completely overwhelmed by the fact that she was going to die someday and I didn't know when. I'd start quietly crying hoping no one heard me because I didn't want to be the bearer of bad news and have to tell my mother that someday she was going to die, like it was some sort of secret and if I didn't tell anybody they would all continue being happy and worry free. Side note: I was also convinced my razor burn from trying to shave my legs when I was 5 was smallpox and quarantined myself in my Grandmother's bathroom at a family Christmas and did the quiet weeping/panic thing. I didn't want to tell anyone and ruin Christmas or run the risk of them getting infected by trying to get me medical attention, I was a goner and I wasn't taking them down with me OR ruining Christmas. Little martyr I was, or just a very strange slightly morbid child who watched too many late night Discovery Channel specials on disease. Small pox aside, every few weeks I would realize something I really loved was going to kick the bucket eventually. This could be a beloved cat, a butterfly I put some particular importance on, a cousin, my brother, my parents, extended family, our nice mailman who used to leave packets of sugarless gum for all the kids in their mailbox, or one of my brother's toads. The simplest attachment to something meant I had to worry and panic about the fact it was going to die. Nothing had a small meaningless death either, I hand colored a couple shoe boxes for various caterpillars I kept as short lived pets. I buried them in the yard and wailed and screamed about their too short lives for the rest of the day. My poor mom.
It got worse when I went to school and they informed me plants were living things, summer would end and everything around me was dead. Yes, I was weird. Now as an adult I only get the mortality blues once in a while, I got over the constant fear of dying after losing a close friend in high school, and for the most part I go randomly about without any impending doom theme-song playing unless I'm in a car.
That was until I hit the 12 month mark. The 12 month mark of trying unsuccessfully to get pregnant hit on Christmas Eve (seriously timing, could you be worse?) Ever since then I've done what I do best, the worst case scenarios. Maybe I'll never have kids? Maybe I'll have 12 miscarriages? What if we go completely bankrupt because IVF is the only thing that works and it takes ten times and we hate each other by the end of it and we're so poor we couldn't afford a kid anyway. I know realistically it could be as simple as a couple months of Clomid, but I like to plan, and planning means also planning for the worst in my baby-rabies addled opinion.
All this stressing came to a point yesterday morning when I was thinking about all the nifty stuff I'll pass onto my kids if they happen, and suddenly it crossed my mind that I will totally, without a doubt, die someday. F*ck.
I spent all day keeping my mouth shut in a sort of horror. Just like a kid, I didn't want to put the burden on my husband and make him realize we were going to die, because really who wants to know they're going to die? Everybody knows it, but who wants to know it in the way it infects your entire thought process.
Of course that would boil over, apparently my resolve to worry alone is broken by sharing a bed with someone who is peacefully sleeping and completely unworried about their eventual demise. Needless to say when I couldn't sleep and started crying I had to pass it on. For some reason, passing this kind of worry on doesn't really work. Maybe I couldn't pass it on, because by the time I decided to say what was worrying me I had passed just worrying about death. I had realized (I hate my love for molecular biology) that if my husband god forbid died before me, he wouldn't just be dead, his cells would be dead, HIS CELLS! That somehow escalated it past a sad acceptance that my cat might die somehow to fear of waking up one day and being 80 and definitely knowing I'm going to die soon. Apparently my stressed out, tired, PMS'ing brain decided to surpass itself and quietly remind me that I could die soon, never have a kid, and all I would leave behind is a cat. This is how I somehow got to the point of crying at midnight and seething with jealousy over the lady my husband will marry in the event of my early and abrupt death who will definitely be a fertile myrtle and probably get rid of my cat. Yep, that is right you just read this entire morbid blog post to get to that point. This is what a lack of sleep, an extreme dose of PMS, a little low blood sugar, and a severe case of baby fever does to me.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

My step-daughters are coming up to go to the haunted zoo and some other fun filled family Halloween events. I love love love taking them, we were frequent visitors at the local Children's Museum, the Zoo, a local dinosaur exhibit and a few other family attractions this summer when I stayed at home with them.
One of the things all these places have in common is babies! I warn anyone with baby fever to avoid these areas, granted the grocery store is always full of babies too. I wandered through the Children's Museum for hours with the girls, no big deal, just babies, but the day we went when AF reared her ugly head it was like everything was magnified.
Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy to have two amazing stepdaughters who are so smart and creative, but I really want a little bundle of joy I can call my own. The day of AF we went to a princess tea party (it should be noted, I hate princess stuff, I always have even as a child but I muster up a ton of enthusiasm for the two of them) and I was seated with the other parents while they went up to have a tea party with princess Belle.
Three women in front of me were sitting together all holding tiny sweet little infants who would coo and drool over their shoulder at me. It hurts a little bit to see all those sweet chubby little cheeks and realize I don't even know when it will happen, at this point I'm not sure I can be sure in how it will happen even.
I'm so happy for all of my friends that are moms or soon-to-be moms, but I can't help being jealous. I look at them cradling their little ones and being so at ease soothing and rocking their little ones. I want that so badly, to have a little one with my nose or maybe my eyes (okay, I honestly hope they get my husband's nose) that I can love and be there for and watch grow.
I'm still hoping, still keeping positive, and still dreading that one year deadline that keeps inching its way closer. For all you ladies out there TTC, keep your head up and your heart open.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

I signed up, and I hope you will too! You can take part of the Celebrating Pregnancy Giveaway Event FOR FREE! That is free promotion for you and your page just by signing up here and helping promote it.
I'm very excited, this will be my first time being involved with a giveaway on this blog. I've entered in several giveaways but I've never had the opportunity to help promote one, although I do hope to eventually host some of my own.GreeN MaM-a JaM-a is a great blog I've followed for a while so I'm thrilled to be promoting her giveaway for my giveaway involvement. Check her out, and be sure to help promote the giveaway! Who couldn't use some free PR? She makes it easy and simple to get involved!

I made this blog twitter official tonight, you can follow me here! I'd be really excited to have some followers, if you tweet at me I'll definitely follow you back! Just give me a shout out, I love followers, I love twitting, tweeting, and all that cool tech stuff.